


dude, we're getting the band back together!

by idacarvalli



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Everyone Comes Back, F/F, F/M, GOOD MORGANA RIGHTS IDC IDC, Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), M/M, Merlin Has PTSD, Merlin doesn't age, Merthur - Freeform, Minor Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), More tags to be added, Morgwen - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, References to Depression, and his body ofc, it's kind of a coffee shop au except not really, it's kinda sad?, like i mean he actually fixes his face to stay young and able, lots and lots of angst, merlin IS albion, perwaine, the villain is not an actual character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idacarvalli/pseuds/idacarvalli
Summary: 1000 years have passed. bit by bit, merlin's life comes back to him.-------------reincarnation fic.
Relationships: Gaius & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> time is too slow for those who wait,  
> too swift for those who fear,  
> too long for those who grieve,  
> too short for those who rejoice,  
> but for those who love, time is  
> eternity.
> 
> -henry van dyke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time is too slow for those who wait,  
> too swift for those who fear,   
> too long for those who grieve,  
> too short for those who rejoice,  
> but for those who love, time is   
>  eternity.   
>  -henry van dyke

Two days have passed since Avalon and the walls of Camelot seem higher than before. Merlin takes a deep breath and his heart is out of control, beating fast as a racehorse under his blood-stained shirt. He has not bothered to wash it. He has not bothered to wash in a week and he stinks and he knows it, but he does not care. Merlin has not yet reached the castle itself; he has been lingering outside the gate to the lower town for an hour, just… watching. 

_Thank you._

There’s a throb, a dull ache in his chest and he winces, closing his eyes. Another breath. In. Out. Through the barred gate of the lower town, people are moving back and forth but it’s emptier than usual. Quieter. It’s understandable: he feels the same way.

The people that are in the streets part way for him and he nods at them. Some are familiar faces, ragged and forlorn, and others are strange and foreign. The walk is an uphill climb but Merlin does it, tattered backpack slung over one sagging shoulder. People wave at him. He does not wave back. 

He reaches _it_ after who-knows-how-many minutes of walking. _It_ being the castle. Merlin looks away, turning on his heel to go back down the hill.

_I always thought you were the bravest man I ever met._

_Guess I was wrong._

No. No, the last thing Merlin wants to do is to prove that right so he soldiers on, through the castle gates and into the stone courtyard. He stares at the light cobblestones, now empty and still. Almost nine years ago Merlin had stood at one of the windowsills up on the third floor, watching down into this very place, watching Uther carry his body, collapsing halfway through, the late king’s body convulsing and dissolving into terrible, wretched sobs. Merlin understood what that felt like now. All he wanted to do was fall to his knees and cry and rip his heart out and bleed out right here on the stones in front of the castle but he could not. He knew he could not. His friends, they were waiting for him. Gwaine, Percival, Gwen, Leon, all of them.

The large doors on the other end of the courtyard push open and there is Guinevere, dressed in a blood-red gown. Red like the blood Merlin’s shirt is stained with. He watches the queen as her expression goes from joyful to heartbreakingly desolate as she looks around the empty yard and sees that Merlin is by himself. But she seems to disregard this because she runs over to Merlin, dressed hitched up. Very unladylike. 

“Merlin,” she breathes, gasping for air as she reaches him. He feels Gwen envelop him in a bone-crushing hug and he is not sure if it is to comfort him or her. She whispers something, her face pressed into his chest and Merlin knows the answer and he says it back, just a ghost of a sentence. 

“I’m sorry.” 

And Guinevere is shaking and sobbing and it’s loud and Merlin stumbles back in his bloodstained clothes. His friend gets a glimpse of them and gasps, falling to her knees on the cobblestone just like Merlin wishes he could. And he does. A moment later he too is on the floor and tears are spilling from his eyes and Gwen’s face is dipping to the ground, a wail of agony escaping her parted lips. Merlin reaches out for her and her hand locks with his. 

They cry together.

* * *

Gwaine is dead.

Percival had been the one to tell him and they had cried some more together but this time it had been quieter, more dignified because they had not been alone. They gave Gwaine a nice funeral on the shores of Avalon. Merlin had not come. It was too much, too soon. He could not go back there, not for a long time. He could not watch another one of his friends burn on those waters. Not again. 

Merlin pays his respects in private, alone in his own chambers, which Gwen had given to him after his return. He lights a fire in the fireplace, feeling the magic flow through his veins again, for he had not used it since before his return. He sits back in his bed and thinks about his friend, but only the good things. The tavern, the _other_ tavern, the Perilous Lands, the fishing rod. The search for Aithusa. Finding him again in Morgana’s realm, in those horrid caves. 

_Well, maybe that one’s worth dying for, eh?_

He had. He had and Percival had told Merlin that it had been Gwaine who revealed their whereabouts to Morgana but Merlin could not be angry at him. Who could be? 

* * *

Gwen is crowned the sole ruler of Camelot. Merlin comes to the ceremony but stays in the back, feeling incredibly out of place in his new, fancy clothes. He leaves the throne room early, scratching at his itchy collar. This- this elegance, this height of fashion, these clothes. They were not him. He wants his old clothes back- the blue shirt and red scarf- but he has thrown those out and burned them because they hurt too much to look at now. 

_I don’t want you to change._

He breaks into a run and dashes out of the hall, bones alight with some newfound vigor. The lower town is quiet, most of them in their houses because of the hot sun. But Merlin doesn’t care about that. He goes to the shop that he has always gotten new clothes from (well, he’s only bought from there twice) and pays for them with his money. The coins always fall strangely in his pocket. He is still not used to this wealth. 

He walks out of the store with the same thing as usual. Blue shirt. Red shirt. Blue scarf. Red scarf. Merlin ducks into an alleyway and strips his ceremonial clothes, his skin finally breathing again at the loss of the tight, uncomfortable fabric. He gets into his normal clothes and looks at his reflection in a puddle. He was back. That Merlin, he was back. The old one. 

He walks back up to the castle. 

* * *

Time passes. 

Gaius dies. 

It is terrible and awful and Merlin does not come out of his room for two weeks until Percival drags him out, looking very sad himself. The old physician passed in his sleep, thankfully. Peacefully. Merlin had been with him that night. Woken up in the morning, put his head to his mentor’s chest, heard the sound of silence.

* * *

More time passes. Merlin’s hair does not grey because he does not want it to. He wants to stay how he is, young and okay-looking. He wants to hold on to some memory of who he used to be.

When he is around forty years of age a procession marches into the castle, black flags are drawn and Merlin knows it can mean nothing but trouble. 

And Leon, voice breaking halfway, announces that Sir Percival was killed in combat.

Killed. A synonym for murdered. Passed away. Gone. For good. 

It dawns on Merlin that even though he may see _him_ , again, Percival was gone. Gaius was gone. 

Human lives are fragile. They do not last long, just like a flame. They burn too bright and die too fast.

* * *

Leon is a flame. 

He dies.

* * *

He must be eighty years old when Guinevere passes. Merlin does not remember it all too well but in her last moments of life, he remembers Gwen asking for _him_. Him, who had left them so long ago. Merlin wants him there too. But he’s not.

Gwen dies with a smile on her face, a tear trickling down her beautiful brown cheek. 

He does not know who succeeds her, or if Gwen even has an heir because he leaves Camelot for good.

There was nothing left for him here. No life, no friends, no family. Nothing.

* * *

Time passes once more and Merlin magics himself into staying young because a hundred-year-old man walking like he is perfectly fit becomes a strange sight to see on the road. Magic becomes a thing of myth again and Merlin thinks about him, how he never would have wanted this, how this is everything they fought against. That Morgana fought against.

There is a _New World_ , and many of the people in what used to be the outskirts of Camelot- now Glastonbury- leave for it. Merlin does not. He knows that is a one-way trip and he prefers it closer to Avalon, where he can feel his friends. He knows they are not really with him but he feels their presence nevertheless. Perhaps it was something about the place (he had returned a few hundred years after Gwen’s death). But never, not once, does he dare stray from Glastonbury and look to the lake, to the island in the middle. He has not been to the lake since his death.

  1. There is some sort of war going in the colonies. Merlin does not enlist, he hides in the mountains where the Valley of Fallen Kings used to stand. It has remained mostly the same, although more towns are dotting the forests now, their chimney smoke puffing up into the sky. 



The 19th century passes. More of the same. Merlin does not go to Avalon. There are a few more wars, minor skirmishes here and there.

* * *

Then comes the 20th century, a flurry of bombs and explosions and destruction, and at the first news of a bombing, Merlin thinks _this is it_. This is Albion’s time of need. He knows it. He would be back. He would come back.

Merlin visits the Lake of Avalon for the first time in nine hundred years.

He kneels by the shoreline, watching his reflection in the rippling waters. Merlin thinks he looks the same but he does not. His face is the same youthful thing it used to be but he can see something behind his eyes, some hollow desperation mingled with hope, hope that one-day things would get better. That he would return and make things better.

There’s a little boat parked in the water underneath a willow tree. Merlin knows where it is because long ago he asked Leon to leave it there, just in case he ever went back. He climbs in, undocks it, and pushes it out into the lake, rowing hard and fast towards the island in the middle. 

He gets out once the little boat bumps against the rocky shoreline of the Island. Merlin magics it into staying put, breathing fast when it’s done. He has not used magic in quite a while. There was nowhere to use it now. Times changed. New inventions came into play. Someday he feared magic as a whole would be useless. 

Merlin walks up the grassy slope of the hill, towards the half-broken tower, still standing at the top. It is grey and ruined but Merlin knows it all too well and he shuts his mind down, focusing only on the path ahead of him. It’s not the first time he’s done so. It helps him to relax, concentrate so he doesn’t fall apart. But every day the crack in him, the long, stretched-out wound tears and rips, and one day Merlin is worried it might be too much to bear. 

This is why he avoids making long-lasting friends. They are mortal. Mortals die. He does not. Over the course of time, Merlin has made one, maybe two close friends and when they departed, as he knew they would, he did fall apart. But only barely, not indefinitely so that he was able to put himself back together, agonizingly, piece by piece. 

Here at the top of the island, there is the tower, much closer and smaller than Merlin remembers it. Around them is the same that it was so long ago, the hills lush and green, the air warm and temperate. Merlin sits in the grass, pressing his hands over his eyes, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. He would not cry. He wouldn’t. 

From his lips escapes a silent prayer, less than a breath and desperate. It is more of a plea than anything and Merlin closes his mouth, knowing that no one could hear him. There was no one up here.

 _Freya_ , he thinks numbly and his limbs carried him down the hill clumsily. He falls to his knees on the rocks, a sharp jab of pain going up his legs. Merlin grits his teeth and reaches down into the waters. _Freya_ , he thinks again, this time awake and demanding. 

_Show yourself._

She does not come.

No one answers his prayer.

Merlin is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always welcome <3
> 
> this chapter is basically a huge time skip. if you'd like to beta read, contact me at trenchcas.tumblr.com


	2. paradise cafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> autumn leaves come tumbling down  
> same as my tears  
> falling to the ground  
> released unfettered  
> they float unbound.
> 
> soon to wither  
> curl and brown
> 
> those leaves will die  
> upon the earth  
> as my tears too shall dry  
> with my renewing spring rebirth.  
> -colleen courtney

Paradise Cafe was located on the very end of Paradise Road in Glastonbury, United Kingdom, where the street met Northload Street. It was located next to a therapist’s office and was run by two men, one named Cade Rogers and the other named Melvin Emery. They had been friends for nearly ten years now, ever since they had met in that very spot, where the cafe was located now.

Melvin Emery, of course, was none other than Merlin Emrys. 

* * *

“Just a few more boxes, Cade!” Merlin yells, watching his best friend haul in the rest of the supplies for the week. “Come on, you can do this!” 

“Why don’t you help out?” Cade grumbles, his blonde head sticking out from underneath the pile of boxes he was pushing in. “I mean, you’ve got magic and all.” 

“Yes, but I’d prefer not to use it,” Merlin says, walking over to help. He takes some of the boxes from Cade and carries them to the storeroom. He doesn’t mind helping out; it reminds him of the old days when he used to carry things around for a living. 

“Mer, I still think it’s brilliant,” says Cade, wiping his brow. “I mean… magic. Sometimes it’s hard to believe. I _still_ don’t believe you half the time.”

Merlin frowns. “I’ve quite literally done magic in front of you before,” he says. “You know I can.”

“I know,” says Cade, only half-telling the truth because he only knows half the truth. Merlin hadn’t told him anything about his past, or where he was from. Cade had walked in on him using magic one day and he had sworn it off ever since, making sure no mortal ever saw it again. Cade had needed some time wrapping his head around it but he had seemed very onboard with the idea of Merlin being magic. Maybe that was why they were so close now- Cade’s enthusiasm kept the thought of immortality pushed far, far back in his mind. (Of course, Cade didn’t know that Merlin was immortal. That was his secret to keeping.) 

Merlin sits on the counter, which is probably a hygiene issue but he doesn’t _really_ care too much. The large coffee maker across from him needs cleaning, which he should probably take care of. But he doesn’t want to. Merlin throws his feet up on top of the counter to go with the rest of his body and he stretches out across it, sighing and putting his hands under his head. 

“You’re terrible.” Cade comes out of the storeroom and pushes Merlin off the table, leaving him to catch himself with magic before his face hits the floor. “Ha! See, I got you to use it.”

“ _Cade_ ,” Merlin says dangerously. Or he tries to- Cade’s face makes him burst out in laughter halfway through the sentence.

Merlin had asked him out once, five years ago. Cade had told him that he didn’t feel the same way, that he wasn’t into dudes. He had let it go, feeling sad. Cade would be the first person in a thousand years he had ever loved.

Maybe it was a good idea that Cade had turned him down and Merlin’s feelings for him had vanished, considering how his last lovers had ended up.

But he doesn’t want to think about that right now. “Clean the counter,” Cade orders and Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Yes, sire,” he says jokingly and then his face falls flat. Merlin goes quiet. 

_Anything else I can get for you, sire?_

Cade looks at him, brow furrowed. He’s cleaning a pitch-black mug with a white rag. “Mer? You alright there, mate?” 

“Fine,” Merlin says quickly, getting up. He snatches the rag out of Cade’s hands and gets to work on the counter. “Don’t bother me, I’m cleaning.”

“Alright, alright,” says Cade. “Asshole.”

“Clotpole,” Merlin says, almost out of habit. He scrubs hard at a black stain on the white counter, falling silent again. It always happened like that- a slip of the tongue, one wrong word and it brought back memories. 

Even after a thousand years, Merlin could not bear to even think of his name because hearing the word even once, out of the blue, would make him crash. He could not afford to crash.

When the counter is spick and span, he turns to Cade, who is stacking coffee cups on the opposite side. He also has turned a tea kettle on. “Earl Grey?” He offers Merlin a steaming black tea in a styrofoam cup. The nice ones are saved for customers. 

“Oh, please,” Merlin says gratefully and he presses it to his lips, the piping hot Earl Gray scalding the back of his throat and his tongue. With a swallow the heat washes away the mood of the past few minutes. “We better open up shop,” he rasps as the tea begins to burn the back of his throat. He relished the feeling. “It’s a quarter to seven.”

Cade nods and hoists himself up and over the freshly-cleaned counter, leaving a skid on it. “Fucking hypocrite,” Merlin mutters to himself, cleaning the mark, his tea set on the marble counter. 

“I heard that!” says Cade as he turns the _open_ sign on. “Paradise Cafe, back for another round.”

“Yay,” Merlin mutters unenthusiastically. Clouds move over the sun and the shop is cast into shadows for a brief moment (or two) before bursting back into the light. 

“It’s a hard knock life,” Cade jokes. Merlin gives him the Death Glare. He was not in the mood for Annie at seven in the morning. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.

Merlin sighs and heads into the back, searching for the plug to light up the menu. He had misplaced it last night when they closed and Cade had yelled at him for it. After seeing that his coworker is still in the front, he mutters a silent spell and his head shoots up to the topmost shelf, where the plug lay. Merlin jumps up and grabs it, bringing it out to the front where he attaches it to the light-up menu and then to the wall socket. The words on the screen begin to glow and he grins at it.

He turns his back on the front door to admire his handiwork (well, not really his handiwork) when the doorbell jingles. “Our first customer, mate!” Cade yells and Merlin nods, not turning to them. He gets the coffee machine ready and throws a few things in the microwave. They should have gotten here earlier, gotten everything ready. 

“Welcome to Paradise Cafe, what can I get for you today?” Merlin asks, holding a cloth in his mouth and attempting to juggle three coffee mugs. 

“Merlin?” 

He whirls.

No. No, it couldn’t be.

But it was.

His voice comes out barely a whisper, not even that, when he says, “Gwen?”

She looks the same as a thousand years ago. But then again, how could she change? Guinevere’s beauty was eternal, her youth boundless, her hope, her optimism, Merlin could see it all in this woman. She has the same dark hair that tumbles down her back and over her shoulders, the same beautiful glowing skin, the same striking eyes. Everything is the same.

Yet this could not be Gwen, because Gwen had died long ago. Gwen was not supposed to return.

“Gwen,” he repeats, breathily. “Gwen. Gwen.” The word is strange on his tongue like it’s been starved of this specific combination of syllables for too long. “Gwen. Gwen,” he says more, just to feel himself say it. “Gwen!” 

He leaps over the counter and devours her in a crushing embrace and Guinevere hugs back, equally tight. “Merlin,” she cries, and tears wet the front of his shirt. They also wet Gwen’s hair, which means he must be crying too. “You-you're alive.”

“Of course I’m alive,” says Merlin, not letting go of his long-lost friend. “Immortal means forever, you know.”

Cade clears his throat awkwardly and Merlin jumps away from Gwen. “Uh, pardon me,” he says politely. “But should I leave?” 

“No-” says Merlin, taking Gwen’s hand in his. “We-we'll leave. Could you look after the shop?” 

Cade nods, watching them both warily. 

“Thanks, mate,” Merlin says. “I owe you one.”

Cade nods again and Merlin pushes open the front door, the bell jangling. He does not let go of Gwen’s hand, his grip on her tightening. When they get outside onto the pavement Merlin notices for the first time what she’s wearing, after he’s able to draw his eyes away from her face, which he has not seen in so long. Gwen is wearing a bottle-green dress. The same one she wore the day she died. 

Merlin’s memory had not ever failed him. This was Guinevere. His Guinevere.

He hugged her again and this time pulled away quickly, but not before planting a kiss on her head. Gwen giggled. 

“How are you-” Merlin asks, unsure of what to say. What could you say to a woman who’d been dead for a thousand years and had just come back to life? 

Gwen smiles and drops her gaze. “I don’t know,” she says earnestly. “I was in Avalon one moment and the next I was here.” Merlin smiles; her English still sounds like Old English, which he finds adorable. “Why are you smiling? Stop that.”

“Can’t I just be happy to see my best friend?” he asks playfully and something is bubbling inside of him, some warm, happy feeling. He has not felt this way, has not felt this absolute ecstasy in centuries. 

“Absolutely not,” Gwen teases. “Anyway, that’s not a happy smile. You’re laughing at me.”

“Am not!”

Gwen raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, you got me,” says Merlin, scanning the street. People were giving them odd looks. “Come on, we’ll go back to my apartment and you can explain everything there.”

Gwen nods and Merlin realizes that he is crying again. 

* * *

Merlin’s apartment was located a few streets away from the cafe. He had bought it off of the son of the old man who had lived there before him. It wasn’t a five-star hotel for sure but it suited him well enough. Better than his living quarters back in Camelot, that was for sure.

He leads Gwen up the staircase, holding her hand so that she is careful not to trip on her dress. She smiles at him, ever the same sweet girl he knew so long ago. They don’t talk on the way to his place, just hold each other. Merlin is glad for the comfort. He has not been held in a thousand years. Funnily enough, the last person who held him was Gwen herself. 

Now they were sitting in his living-slash-kitchen-slash-dining room, where Gwen rested awkwardly on a sofa. She stood out against the pale beiges and whites of his house. Merlin smiles again. “So you still remember everything?”

“All of it,” she says. “Lord, Merlin, how much time has passed?” She’s looking out the window at the passing cars and Merlin chuckles. 

“One thousand years,” he whispers and Gwen gasps, hand flying to her mouth.

“A thousand years?” she says, fanning her face. “And you’ve been here all this time?”

Merlin nods. 

Tears well up in her eyes and Merlin gets up from his spot to dry them; he can’t see her sad again. He won’t. He won’t let her be sad ever again. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve been okay,” he lies, hoping that Gwen finds some comfort in his words. But somehow she knows he’s lying and she cries even harder, sobs racking her body. “Please stop crying,” Merlin says frantically because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Gwen flinches and nods, pulling away from Merlin. “So you’ve been alone all these years?” she asks through hiccups.

“I haven’t been _alone_ ,” Merlin lies again. “I’ve made some friends.”

“Like who?” 

“Cade,” he replies. “The man in the cafe.”

“What’s a cafe?” 

Merlin sighs, looking at Gwen. “You don’t remember anything from the past ten centuries, then?”

“Not a thing.”

He thinks about this for a moment. That meant Gwen had no idea how this world worked, no idea who anyone was now. And he thought he had had it bad. She- _no_ , this world was completely foreign to her. Practically another universe.

He doesn’t speak for a moment before saying, “So how did you find me?”

Gwen sighs. “Honestly?” she asks. “It was an accident.”

Merlin nods. It made sense; Gwen wouldn’t know how to look for him. “Where did you come from?”

Gwen catches his gaze and holds it for a long minute, unspoken words passing through them and Merlin knows she’s about to tell her story. 

“I was in Avalon up until a few days ago. I was not alone; everyone else was there as well. I did not even spend that long there. Time in Avalon is different, I suppose because I only remember being there for a few months. And then there was this… huge flash of white and I woke up in the grass behind what I suppose was someone’s house. I did not realize that at first, but I jumped the fence of their yard and found myself on a road,” Gwen begins. 

“What road was it?” Merlin asks, listening closely. 

“I don’t remember exactly,” says Guinevere. “But it was a large one, with these odd, huge vehicles on them. I believe it was in a town called Bath. That’s a strange name for a town. Bath,” she tries it out a few times. 

Oh. So she had woken up in Bath. Merlin knew where that was because a thousand years ago he had lived there. 

Gwen continues. “It was very surreal. Because I could have sworn I was- the hills, the land, they all looked the same.” 

Camelot. 

“Guinevere,” Merlin says slowly, trying to break the news as soft as possible. “I think you woke up in Camelot. In the castle.”

Gwen looks confused. “But- but that’s not possible,” she says quickly. “There was no castle, nothing like that.”

Merlin closes his eyes and looks at his shoes. They are old sneakers from a long time ago he bought off of a peddler. The laces are untied. He turns back to Gwen. “Gwen, Camelot fell.”

She closes her eyes and her lips purse in pain. Merlin reaches over and puts a hand on her leg, comforting her. It takes a few seconds for Gwen to compose herself and then she asks, “When?”

“I don’t know. Long ago. Maybe in the 14th century.”

“But that would have been six hundred years ago!”

“Yeah,” says Merlin, cupping his hands over his mouth. “That was when all of the kingdoms died out for cities and one large kingdom. Albion became England.” That wasn’t exactly true. “Actually, it was more like Albion was replaced by England. I suppose I’m all that’s left of the old Albion.” 

“Just you?” asks Guinevere. “Oh god. I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Yes, you do,” Merlin agrees. “I’ll give you a history book later on so you can catch up. What happened after Bath?”

Gwen nods, carrying on with her tale. “After I found myself on that road, I just followed it here. I don’t know why, or how, but I just felt some sort of pull to here. So I came down here. I walked part of the way and then jumped onto one of those vehicles, one of the big ones with almost twenty wheels. The driver of the vehicle found me and offered to take me here. So I agreed and he dropped me off in whatever this town is called-”

“Glastonbury.”

“Right, Glastonbury. It looks a lot like Camelot. But I arrived in this town and ran all the way to Avalon. But the tower just wasn’t the same. It was broken and the place was so different. There were a lot of people there, with little things in their hands that they pointed at the lake and they would click and flash. So I left there and just wandered the town for a few hours. Then I slept in a small alley, spent the night next to some filthy garbage. In the morning I was walking around town when I peered into your shop. And I thought it looked like you but I wasn’t sure, because I had no way to tell for sure. So I came in and your friend- Cade- let me in and I came up to you. And, well, that’s all that happened so far.”

She finishes, taking a deep breath. Merlin doesn’t respond. If Bath was where Camelot used to be located then surely Gwen had been reborn in the same place that she had died, in her chambers in the castle. But why? She hadn’t been destined to return.

“Why are you back?” Merlin asks at the same time Gwen asks “Why am I back?” 

They stare at each other for a second before bursting into laughter. It’s nothing to laugh at, but Merlin hasn’t laughed this hard in ages. He’s clutching his stomach by the end of it, his own low laugh mixing with Gwen’s high, tinny one. 

He regains his composure and looks at Gwen, still grinning like a fool. “I have no idea why you’re back,” he says. “But if you’re back-”

“The others are coming back too.”

There it is. The kicker. The sentence that Merlin was dreading, that he wanted so bad to hear, but at the same time he never wanted to hear in his life. The others. All of them.

“You really think so?” Merlin asks her. “How can you be sure?”

Gwen’s expression softens and the wall behind her eyes lifts. “When I was in Avalon, I don’t remember much but I know it. I- I can _feel_ it. They’re coming too. I just don’t know when. Or where.” 

Merlin nods. “We’ll have to figure it out.” He doesn’t say anything else.

Gwen must see his face because she moves over to sit next to Merlin on the small loveseat that he’s resting in. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Fine,” Merlin says, not bothering to elaborate. “I’m fine, Gwen, really?”

“You’ve been mourning for a thousand years, Merlin,” Gwen whispers, bringing her hand to rest on his own, both sitting on Merlin’s knee. He turns away from Gwen so that she won’t see his face but she catches it anyway, leaning into him. It’s not romantic, he knows that, but he leans into it anyway, letting his last wall down. To be here, with Gwen, was something he never dreamed could happen. 

“You’re right,” he breathes. “I’m not ready. But I have to face them anyway.” 

Gwen says nothing. They sit like that, in silence, for a while before Merlin looks at the clock hung up on the opposite wall. It was nine o’clock already. He pulled out his phone and texted Cade, who was probably working the shop alone.

 **_M:_ ** **Hey, I’m probably not going to be able to work for the next few days.**

 **_C_ ** **: why not** **  
****_C:_ ** **?**

 **_M:_ ** **Family things. Can’t avoid it. Sorry, mate.**

 **_C:_ ** **dw bout it, mer** **  
****_C_ ** **: i have it under control**

 **_M:_ ** **Thanks, Cade. Also, you might want to think about hiring another employee for when I’m gone. I don’t know how long I’ll be out exactly.**

 **_C_ ** **: will do**

Merlin puts his phone away. What did he do to deserve a friend like Cade? He pulls away from Guinevere. “We have to find the others,” he tells his friend. She nods. “I can do that myself. You need to read a history book or two.” 

“Do you have one?”

“Not exactly.”

* * *

Merlin takes Gwen to the Library of Avalon, named after its collection of the most fantastical books in town. It’s a nice little place, with a sign reading _open_ in the front window. They walk there, just so Gwen doesn’t have to sit in a car. Apparently, his reborn friend got motion sickness easily. The entire way to the library Gwen stares at the road and the people. Merlin indulges her curiosity, taking her to visit a clothing store. He buys her some modern clothes so she doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb against the contemporary fashions of the civilians. 

They enter the library, with Gwen holding Merlin’s arm like a toddler. He steers them through the shelves, picking up a few books on magic and history. The cashier is a nice lady, on the older side but still very loud. She wishes them a good day and Merlin takes Gwen out of the shop. They go for lunch next, because Gwen probably has not eaten in a few days. Merlin curses himself for not feeding her the moment they had gotten to his place. 

Lunch is at a nice place across from Avalon and Merlin has to force himself to find a seat away from the windows, despite Gwen’s protests. She wants to see Avalon for the same reason Merlin does not- a reminder of the past. Merlin holds a menu out to her and she looks through it, seemingly overwhelmed by the variety of options. Every so often she stops to ask Merlin what “fish and chips” or “toad in the hole” is. He explains it to her patiently, smiling as her expressions shift from confused to understanding. The food is good as well; Merlin has eaten here before so he knows it’s good, but Gwen seems to enjoy it very much. She even asks for a second serving. Merlin pays for it. He doesn’t mind. 

After lunch they go back to Merlin’s apartment, where Gwen sits on the couch with her new books, reading intently. Merlin sits across from her, opening his laptop to Google Maps. Gwen casts a curious look at it before asking Merlin what _the New World_ is. She gasps when Merlin tells her that there’s a land across the ocean called _America_. Her jaw drops when he tells her it’s one of the most powerful countries in the world. 

“So much has happened,” Gwen mutters, only part way through the book on world history. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to understand it fully. They _burned_ witches at the stake? Only four hundred years ago?”

Merlin nods. “Yeah, they did.” 

“Can you still do magic, Merlin?” Gwen asks. 

He nods. “I don’t like to, though. I find that living a normal life is much better.”

“Have you been to the Druids recently?”

“No,” says Merlin. It’s a sad truth, what he tells her next. “The Druids in this area were wiped out during a witch hunt almost three hundred years ago.” 

Gwen’s face falls. She turns back to her book and Merlin goes back to work. 

There had to be some sort of pattern he was missing, that he couldn’t see. He racks his brain, trying to remember where everyone died. Camlann. Avalon. Camelot. There are only a few different locations. 

And then he sees it. If Gwen had come back first, then that surely meant his friends were coming back in the opposite order they died. First Gwen, then Leon, Percival, Gaius-

And then _him_.

Merlin shakes his head swiftly, trying to banish the idea from his mind. That one day he might have to lay his eyes upon that face is too much for him. He tries to concentrate on Leon. Where did Leon die?

It was in battle if his memory served him well. Merlin would have been sixty. It would have been the woods just outside of Camelot, near what used to be Cenred’s domain. They could get there; it was not too far from Avalon anyway. 

Merlin spends a few hours asking Gwen what she remembers from Camelot and eventually he is able to pinpoint Leon’s exact location of death. It wasn’t too far from Ealdor, where he grew up. It wasn’t too hard to reach either. 

“Gwen, come on,” he says to the former queen. “We’re going to go find Sir Leon.”

A grin flashes across Guinevere’s face, a small one, sweet but devilish at the same time. And Merlin sees his old friend again, even though she’s dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. In her eyes, there is no inkling of Queen Guinevere. It’s just Gwen. 

Gwen gets up. “What are we waiting for, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always welcome :D
> 
> everyone's locations aren't exact, a lot of the positioning for the ancient kingdoms is just for my story-writing convenience based off of researched guesses, so it's not completely out of the blue.  
> glastonbury tor is where avalon is technically located. i put camelot somewhere around bath because the kingdom doesn't have an official location, although some say it was in wales. albion is now england, for future reference. albion is another name for old england. there are many more strange locations to come up. for the record, ealdor is somewhere on the border of cenred's kingdom, as mentioned in 1x10 the moment of truth. if there are any differences in location or you know where something is located in the modern-day, feel free to comment and i'll fix it!

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated <3  
> this is absolutely not beta read because I'm too lazy to search for a beta reader, but if you'd like to beta read feel free to reach out to me via tumblr, where you can find me at @trenchcas. just message me!  
> this prologue was just a huge passage of time pretty much. avalon is technically located in glastonbury so that's where merlin lives. (kind of).


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